


Harry Potter and the Enchanted Mistletoe

by AirgiodSLV



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-15
Updated: 2005-12-15
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: Malfoy seems a bit distracted himself, and Harry feels a surge of irrational jealousy before he assures himself reasonably that Malfoy wasn’t even looking at Cho, he must be distracted over someone – something – else.





	Harry Potter and the Enchanted Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](https://impasto.livejournal.com/profile)[impasto](https://impasto.livejournal.com/) for the vote of encouragement. Let us all pretend that this didn't happen, and we shall never speak of it again. *handmotions*
> 
> Warnings: Cliche holiday fluff

Harry’s on his way through the archway leading into the Great Hall when he gets distracted by the sight of Cho Chang, dressed in a becomingly short pleated skirt with her hair twisted up in adorably messy knots, and then he nearly trips over his own feet. He has his mouth open to say something, although god knows what, really, when someone storms past Cho, making her startle in surprise, and then collides with Harry right under the arch.

“Piss off, Zabi- oof,” the someone says, and Harry is at once annoyed and resigned…annoyed, because he’s just fallen on his arse in front of Cho Chang, who continues to look unspeakably pretty as she ducks her head, smiles shyly, and swerves around them; resigned, because he really should be used to Malfoy making a fool out of him by now, even if this time it is, as seems highly probable, a complete accident.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going?” Harry asks, and thinks that his insult lacks some of its usual heat, but then he can hardly be blamed for the effects of pretty Ravenclaw Seekers wearing short skirts.

Malfoy must think the same, because his retort is nearly as lame as Harry’s, and almost completely devoid of venom. “I’m not the only one on the floor here,” he points out, and they both clamber to their feet and make a production of dusting off their robes, just to show each other that they are clearly the aggrieved party.

Malfoy seems a bit distracted himself, and Harry feels a surge of irrational jealousy before he assures himself reasonably that Malfoy wasn’t even looking at Cho, he must be distracted over someone – something – else.

“Well then,” Malfoy says, ending the awkward pause they seem to have fallen into. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

Harry rolls his eyes, and Malfoy loftily pretends not to notice it. “Right,” he returns dryly. “Nice running into you, Malfoy.”

It’s only when he tries to take a step forward, away from Malfoy and the Great Hall – and consequently, Cho Chang giggling in her skirt with her messy-tied hair – that he realizes something is wrong. Apparently Malfoy realizes it too, because he hasn’t moved either, and his expression is uncharacteristically perplexed.

“Er, Malfoy,” Harry says, but then he sees two shockingly bright heads of red hair, and he thinks he might just know what the problem is. Or rather, where the problem came from.

“Oi, Harry!” Fred says cheerfully, and then he appears to take in the scene, and his face turns from gleeful to dismayed and ends at somewhat embarrassed. “Ah. Malfoy.”

Harry debates the pros and cons of letting Malfoy know that this is probably Fred and George’s fault, and decides that communication is at this point preferable to remaining trapped for even a second longer than is absolutely necessary.

“Oi,” Harry returns, a great deal less cheerfully. “What did you do?”

George looks abashed, but there’s also pride in his voice as he talks, animated and enthusiastic. “Enchanted mistletoe, Harry, look! It’s a modification on a stasis spell, lets you move around, but not leave the field until the spell’s parameters have been met.”

Harry does his best not to glower at the cheerful sprig hanging over his – and Malfoy’s – heads, and turns what might possibly be a glare on the twins. “And the parameters would be?” he asks, with a sinking feeling in his stomach that tells him he already knows the answer.

“Look, it was only a bit of a lark, Harry, really,” Fred assures him, sympathetic and with a healthy dose of disgust in his eyes as he glances skeptically at Malfoy. “We saw you leaving, and Chang was heading right your way…how could we have know this git would stick his arse in the way?”

Malfoy finally overcomes what Harry assumes can only be shock, and explodes with all of the vitriol that had been missing moments before. “I’m stuck in a stasis field with Potter because you two morons were trying to match-make?” He turns an icy glare from the twins to Harry, and Harry would take a step back out of self-preservation if he were able.

“Honestly, Potter,” he snaps, voice dripping disdain. “You and your ridiculous schoolboy crush. You couldn’t just ask her out like a normal human being? You had to resort to Weasleys’ crackpot concoctions?”

“I didn’t do it!” Harry squeaks indignantly, but Malfoy just lets out a huff of disgust and tries to leave again, which only results in the two of them being bumped together by the no-longer-gentle prodding of the stasis field.

“Stop that!” Harry insists somewhat desperately, as he automatically tries to move backwards and Malfoy ends up pressed against his chest. “You’re making it worse!”

“ _I’m_ making it worse?” Malfoy counters disbelievingly, and Harry realizes with dismay that they’ve gathered quite a crowd now, students creeping closer with interest to see what the two of them have started this time.

Fred and George take the opportunity for free product promotion and begin loudly advertising the benefits and uses of their enchanted mistletoe. “Not exactly the way we envisioned the marketing campaign,” Fred confides in an undertone, “but thanks for being such a sport about it, Harry.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say, but from the way Malfoy is bristling and spitting, he’d better come up with something soon. “Look, let me just get my wand,” he suggests, but very quickly realizes that they’re now rather too close together for him to reach into his pocket without, er, touching things.

“Potter,” Malfoy warns him through clenched teeth, “if you don’t cease groping me like a third-year, I’ll bloody your nose.”

“Look, Malfoy,” Harry says a bit desperately, “All we need to do is cast a finite incantem, and then…”

“Don’t you think the Weasley spawn would have done that already if it worked?” Malfoy cuts him off scathingly, and Harry begins to panic.

Someone nearby – a Slytherin, he thinks, because Malfoy glowers as if he has someone specifically in mind for disemboweling later – yells, “go on then, give us a kiss!” and Harry wonders if the stasis field has a heating charm attached as well, because the skin beneath his collar is suddenly all sweaty and flushed.

Malfoy’s chin comes up, with a hard-eyed look of determination that makes Harry quail in his shoes, and he snaps in a tone of infinite loathing, “well, let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Harry’s mind seems to be incapable of coming up with anything besides “er,” so he settles for that, and then lets it sink in for a few seconds while his brain feverishly attempts to process. A small part of him is wondering with horror whether Cho is among the crowd watching them, and a larger part is rather dismayingly certain of it.

‘Get it over with’ suddenly seems to be the best course of action, so he makes a rather undignified lunge for Malfoy’s mouth with his own, and is rewarded by a horrified shriek.

“Cheek, Potter!” Malfoy yelps, aghast, and Harry is sure that his face must be beet-red by now, but Malfoy’s is flaming as well, and embarrassment only seems to make his glare that much more terror-inducing.

“Right,” Harry mutters, and then the two of them lean forward to delicately – and disgustedly – peck each other on the cheeks, avoiding all eye contact as they do.

The students cheer, with a healthy percentage of sniggering, and Harry feels the enchantment abruptly release them. He takes a half-dozen steps back as quickly as he can without being too obvious, nearly tripping over his feet again as he does so, and sees Malfoy do the same, albeit with more grace.

Both of them wipe their mouths at the same time, still avoiding eye contact, and George claps Harry apologetically on the back while Fred makes himself busy taking product orders.

Malfoy draws himself up with carefully-gathered dignity, the Slytherins crowding around behind him with bright, sharp eyes. “We shall never speak of this again, Potter,” he says stiffly, and Harry nods with equal vehemence, wishing it had never happened in the first place, much less in front of a roomful of people.

He takes a quick glance around to confirm that Cho is indeed among the spectators, and his stomach ties itself in a few sick knots.

“Enchanted mistletoe,” he mumbles to himself as he stomps off to the Gryffindor dormitory. “Of all the things.”

Ron meets him on the stairs to the Tower, and blinks at the dour look on his face. “Harry, mate,” he says hesitantly, and Harry supposes he can only count his blessings that Ron wasn’t there to see his embarrassment. “Are you okay?”

“Ask your brothers,” Harry replies, cheeks heated, because he has no illusions about the fact that Ron will hear it from someone. _Everyone_ will know, and oh _god_ , it’ll be all over the school for _weeks_ now.

The only consolation, he supposes as he flops despairingly onto his bed, is that Malfoy will catch it as well. For once, it won’t be him versus Harry, although he’ll undoubtedly try to make it look that way. Heavens forfend Malfoy pass up a chance to play the victim. Harry will be lucky if it’s only the Weasleys who end up with detention, and not Harry for assault, or something equally ridiculous.

Enchanted mistletoe, he thinks again; cheeks still, for some reason, burning hot.

Really.


End file.
